


This Is Called 'Avoidance'

by Baibaba



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baibaba/pseuds/Baibaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe's back is killing him. Takes place right after "Last Grimm Standing" episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Called 'Avoidance'

Nick was outside on Monroe’s front porch and he smelled hesitant.

He would get up and open the door, but his back was pulsating in a rhythm familiar to a Be-Bop jazz tempo by Shadow Wilson. Being a Blutbad had its disadvantages sometimes. The cloister of nerves in his lower back being number one at the moment. Being subjected to an outdated gladiator-fighting scheme was a close second.

And the runner up would be having the knowledge that came with being a Blutbad that made him a useful tool for a Grimm.

Honestly, sometimes he wondered what it felt like to be completely human. It must be Heavenly.

Face down on the couch, his legs in the air because he was too tall and he had neglected to take into account his height when buying the damn furniture, he listened to Nick’s steady knocking. Three quick taps on the door. Monroe debated whether or not to pretend to be asleep or just not there.

His car was in the driveway though. And the lights were on. Nick was a cop and as much as he wanted the Grimm to leave him alone, he couldn’t exactly out smart the guy. He was one perceptive cop.

“Key under the pot!” He said as loudly as he could into the throw pillow. The pillow was wet with his drool. He groaned. The Grimm was going to see a pretty picture when he walked in.

He tried to shift onto his back but the pain radiating and making itself cozy in his lower back held him still in a strong grip.

He really could not be dignified when Nick walked in, could he? He had to make a fool of himself. Again.

First he ripped a guy’s arm off. Now he couldn’t even beat a lousy lizard in a cage fight. His ancestors must be shunning him from all the disappointment he’s causing. Granted, Dmitri was terrifying and Monroe was really no match for him, but he was a Blutbad.

A hand touched his shoulder and Monroe closed his eyes, pulling back the feeling of wanting to rip into a throat. It was a warm feeling that felt like home and reminded him of his mother.

He turned his head. Nick was two inches from his face. He was concerned.

“You all right there?”

Monroe rolled his eyes.

“You’d think, being a Grimm and all, you’d be smarter.” Monroe said more to the pillow then to Nick.

Nick smiled, and it’s dumb that Monroe liked that Nick smiled especially because his back might just be murdering him at the moment. But the sweet dimples in Nick’s cheeks kept him from thinking about anything too much anyhow.

“I’m so sorry, Monroe. Anything I can do?”

“Ice would be fantastic.” Monroe managed to say, turning his head enough to the left for the words to be spoken to Nick rather than his own drool.

“On it.” Nick goes with perfect posture and his long legs and his pretty black hair that looked so damn soft to the kitchen. Monroe turned his head towards the couch, feeling a low burn that was entirely too pleasant, start to ignite.

He sighed, long and hard, cringing when his back twinged in pain. Breathing had apparently been taken off the table.

After the fight he had managed to escape from the arena and the warehouse, running off of pure adrenaline. His back had not been an issue. But as he got into his car, the little yellow thing way too small for his stature but too sentimental for him to ever sell, his adrenaline had resided and his back had erupted in a firey pain that was not unlike being stabbed continuously.

It was like having a crappy assassin attached to his back that happened to have Alzheimer’s. His brain was so diluted with pain that his metaphors had gone off the deep end of just plain _moronic_.

He had collapsed when he had finally managed to pull himself out of his car and made the seemingly endless trek to his front door. He had planned to wait out the worst of it before even attempting to move.

The only clock he could see told him it was two in the morning.

Nick came closer and Monroe composed himself enough, shifting just in case the Grimm got the idea that it would be good for him to turn on his back.

“I got some ice and I got some pain killers from your top-secret medicine cabinet.” Nick said, sitting on the coffee table. Two little white pills in his palm, an ice pack, and a cup of water with a bright neon green twirly straw.

Monroe was almost certain he did not own that straw. But he was surer that Nick didn’t go around with flamboyant plastic in his pants.

“Where’d you find that?” He was staring not at the straw but at Nick.

Nick laughed.

“Found in one of your drawers. Figured it’d be better if you didn’t move so much. Now take your medicine like a good boy.”

Monroe did so.

“Did you just make a crack at my heritage?”

“Of course not.” Nick said, airily. He set the glass down and without any warning pulled Monroe’s shirt up, exposing his back.

Surprising a Blutbad never ended well. Monroe himself had once killed for less. And he had to fight back the urge to grab Nick by the neck. Years of meditation and pilates and countless hobbies trained his instincts to listen to his brain first.

Nick was one lucky Grimm.

Biting his lip, Monroe focused on the warm hand that was smoothing over his lower back. This was more than friendly. This was intimate. This was something he hadn’t ever felt all too comfortable with Angelina doing.

But with Nick he was all too aware with just how much he’d let the man get away with.

“Does this hurt?” _God no_ , he thought. His hand felt hot and comforting and Monroe’s initial annoyance with the Grimm was all too quickly oozing away from him with every soft stroke.

“You can just put the ice pack on. No need for the massage.” He said, no need for Nick who was not in any way available to be let in on his feelings.

Denial was another thing he needed to practice. He was getting too rusty.

“Right.” Nick said quickly and the lovely hand was gone, replaced with the ice pack from Antarctica. Monroe held back the hiss and let out a much more dignified groan.

He laid in silence and listened to his own breathing. Nick was sitting besides him on the coffee table, decidedly not getting up to be on his way to his perfect little paradise.

“What else?” Nick said. Monroe gave him an odd look.

“Its almost three in the morning. Shouldn’t you be home? In bed? Not here?”

Nick looked away and the distinct scent of ‘avoidance’ radiated off of him. Monroe left it alone. Everything was already too personal.

“Want to watch a movie?” Monroe said instead. “I got the entire Thin Man collection on DVD.”

Nick tilted his head.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well get ready to have your mind blown.”

Nick fell asleep within five minutes. Monroe did not watch him sleep.

His denial skills were getting better already. 


End file.
